Silent Hero
by Eyes of Lily
Summary: During his imprisonment by Hojo, Vincent passes the day by watching a small, silverhaired boy... he would risk it all just to meet his lover's son. past!Vincent and chibi!Sephiroth angst. :D


Originally written months ago for my best friend Vicky. I thought I'd post it here. Feedback would be appreciated!

Disclaimer: Don't own FFVII, the evil money whores Squenix do. (How I love them!)

**Silent Hero**

**By Eyes-of-Lily**

Sometimes, when he was lucky, Hojo would leave him alone for a few days. Sometimes, when he was lucky, the light-headed nausea would leave him for a short while. When this happened, it allowed Vincent some time when he could think back on the past, and pretend that the last four years had never happened; that everything had turned out differently.

And sometimes when he was _very _lucky, he caught a glimpse of Hojo's other toy: a small boy, tiny for his age with brilliant silver hair. Though Hojo didn't keep the boy down in the laboratory as he did Vincent… they were the same. They were both caged, Vincent knew, his thoughts filled with bitterness. His was physical; yet, it could be broken. That little boy had much less hope, for his cage was one made of deception, lies, endless experimentation, and quiet voices.

Sometimes he got to see the boy when Hojo was leading him down to the laboratory for the daily experiments he performed. From behind the bars of the cage Hojo kept him chained in, like some pathetic beast, he would peer out and watch the little boy following the tall scientist. His face would always have fear written all over it, Vincent noted, though with every trip some of that fear would fade away as the boy's innocence was torn away.

On days when Vincent was especially lucky, Hojo would be leading him back from the lab to his cage after finishing with his experiments, and they would pass by one of Hojo's cold, strictly professional assistants leading the boy down the corridor to the laboratory. Though he knew it was because of his ragged, starved, probably terrifying looks, Vincent couldn't help but feel a slight tug at his heart when he would feel bright green eyes widen and peer up at him as he staggered by.

It was these few events that made Vincent realize that despite everything, he still knew how to feel.

Other days, he wasn't so sure if he wanted to see the boy. Hojo was a brilliant, cruel man; he excelled in what he did, and he knew how to break a person. Vincent knew that Hojo knew of his weakness for a little boy, when nothing else could bring him lower.

In the scientist's mind, the child had one purpose; to be an experiment. He was playing with a human life, and the twisted man loved it. He loved being able to destroy two humans at once, even more.

That was when he started showing Vincent the mind-numbing experiments he would perform on the boy. Vincent had sharp ears, could make out every scream, whimper, or whisper that escaped the young lips, and he could almost taste the fear emanating all around.

And he could certainly see the blood spilling from Hojo's merciless experimentation—red, the same colour as Vincent's eyes.

Vincent wished he was colourblind.

Every time this happened, when the scientist would lead him back to his cage, tall and menacing, Vincent would speak. He didn't often speak to the madman, yet he would always make a point of it where the boy was concerned. "Hojo, this is madness! Leave Sephiroth alone! Let him be a child, as Lucrecia would have wanted it!"

"Lucrecia wanted _this_!" The reply always came, a calm voice with a tingling hissing undertone to it, much like a snake. "She wanted her precious child to be a human experiment! She died for it! Stop preaching your long-dead nobilities and accept what you are!"

The door would slam shut, the click of a lock would be heard, and Vincent would be left all alone, cold and weary. Then, Vincent would realize that he still knew how to block the feelings away, when he needed to.

One thing Vincent often wondered was what it looked like outside. He always knew what day it was; Hojo believed in having a regular schedule to bring terror to his subject's lives. The anticipation and waiting was always the worst, though; knowing that a horrible experiment was coming up, and being unable to stop it. But the seasons…

He sat in the back of his cage, huddled, knees drawn to his chest with painfully thin, pale arms wrapped about them, simply staring. That was what Vincent usually did… sat in his usual corner, half-hidden by shadows, and watched. There never was complete silence in the lab, and it was nearly maddening. Constantly there was the beeping of random complicated machines—Hojo often used them for experiments and analysis—the humming of miscellaneous instruments, and the bubbling of endless numbers of test tubes. Anyone would be uneasy here, yet for Vincent, this was as much of a home as he had ever known; in the four years here, it had become a familiar place.

It was also considered a peaceful evening, by Vincent's standards. The monsters living inside of him were calm, and his mind was clear enough for him to reminisce on old times. It was a warm day in May, or so Hojo had mentioned to one of the assistants; Vincent desperately was trying to remember what it had been like to feel the sun's warmth through the navy fabric of his old Turk suit…

A sudden noise sounded in the distance, knocking Vincent out of his trance-like thoughts in an instant. Turning his head slightly toward the ajar laboratory door, Vincent could make out the scraping noise of footsteps heading down the spiral staircase to the basement. The noise would have been faint, perhaps not even audible, to anyone else, but Vincent's ears were well-trained, and not-quite-human. From the noise, the man could judge exactly who was coming down the stairs, and suddenly he found himself to be quite alert, and even… eager?

The footsteps got louder, and certainly more hesitant as tiny feet shuffled down the hallway, and Vincent found himself leaning forward in his cage, watching intently. He was awarded only moments later, as the door was pushed open a bit, and a small, silver-haired head peeked in.

"Professor?" the little boy said in a tiny voice, his large green eyes scanning the room, obviously in search of Hojo.

Vincent moved forward a bit, allowing some of the clinically bright light overhead to cut across his form. "Hojo is not here," he replied in what he hoped to be a kind, albeit harsh, voice.

Eyes widened, and a little gasp escaped the boy's lips as he noticed Vincent for the first time. Whether he was confused or afraid, Vincent could not tell—probably both—but whatever the reason, the boy seemed to be rooted to the floor, as he turned his gaze downward to the floor, frozen in place.

"Why are you looking for Hojo, Sephiroth?" Vincent tried again, clearing his throat to sound less intimidating, surprising himself with the ease at which the boy's name rolled off his tongue. _As though I've been calling him that every day of his life._

It seemed Vincent had caught the boy's attention, though, as he raised his eyes again, and cautiously peered through the bars at Vincent's slim frame. "How do you know my name, sir?" Sephiroth asked cautiously, his voice quivering.

He was so shy and unsure of himself, Vincent thought with a profound sadness. Such a sweet child… Sephiroth didn't deserve any of the things Hojo put him through. The poor child was probably shy simply because of Hojo's cruelty. The man strongly disapproved of questions, or the mindless chatter of a child. The damage was already being done.

Vincent watched the boy intently, trying to drink in every detail about the child, savouring the strange closeness he had felt the instant Sephiroth had stepped into the lab. "I have seen you around," he replied slowly. "And I have known you since you were born."

The boy nodded slowly, accepting that as an answer, and Vincent sighed in relief. It would be so hard explaining everything to Sephiroth now, especially when Vincent's own mind couldn't make sense of some of the details. He was even more relieved when Sephiroth took a few more hesitant steps forward, coming to crouch in front of the cage where Vincent was held. Apparently, his curiousity had won over shyness… as it often was with children.

"Why are you in here?" Sephiroth asked, his voice still quiet, and full of a sad wisdom that boys that age shouldn't possess; the result was almost unsettling, a young man in a child's body. "Did the professor do this to you?"

Vincent nodded once, softly, and found himself sliding across the dirty, cold floor of his cage, moving until he was mere inches from the bars holding him in, and keeping Hojo's cold, organized world away. "He has turned me into an experiment." Vincent told Sephiroth, and he couldn't hide the bitterness in his words.

His bitterness grew when a look of grave understanding spread across Sephiroth's face, and the little boy pouted. "The professor isn't very nice, is he?" Sephiroth asked softly, a tiny hand reaching out to wrap around one of the steel bars of Vincent's imprisonment. "He likes to yell at me when I talk. And he doesn't let me play with the other kids."

It wasn't fair! Vincent wanted to break the cage, to scoop up Sephiroth in his arms, and give him a hug. He longed to take Sephiroth away from this life, this nightmare, this twisted man's fantasy! Little boys belonged at home, on a plush carpet with crayons clutched in their hands… not on a cold laboratory table, being cut and carved into.

"It hurts, doesn't it…?"

Vincent's thoughts were interrupted once again, as the little boy spoke, his voice so sweet, and so sad. Sephiroth would make a great choir boy, Vincent noted idly, as he nodded. "It does."

Sephiroth's hand curled around the bar, and the boy leaned closer, resting his forehead against another cold rung. "It hurts me, too." He replied. "The professor doesn't like me. I don't know why, but he does."

"Hojo doesn't make any sense…" Vincent reached out, on impulse, placing his own dirty, pale, ragged hand across Sephiroth's tiny one, feeling the warmth from the boy's skin flow into his own; something he had not felt in a long time. "But Sephiroth, you have done nothing wrong. Someday, you will escape Hojo, and when you do, you will be happy…"

"Happy?" The little boy's lips curved upward in a tiny, shy smile at the mention of that word. "I would like to be happy. All the other children are always happy."

Sephiroth was so much more deserving to be happy than any other child, Vincent thought. Sephiroth was the sweetest little boy he had ever seen, Sephiroth was special…

"You will be happy. You will survive this. And, you will escape." Vincent said once more, this time confidently. He would not allow this child to be crushed and destroyed by the scientist. He would not let Hojo ruin the only remaining joy in his life.

Vincent realized then, that he was still human.

And as the little boy's hand reached into the cage, into the darkness, and stroked Vincent's cheek briefly, Vincent realized his lips had remembered how to smile once more, and he was smiling harder than he had in a very long time.

"Who are you…?" Sephiroth whispered, pulling his hand away again. "You're a strange man… but I like you." The little boy smiled again, and Vincent felt his whole world and all his sorrow melt away in an instant.

However, if he hadn't been preoccupied with the little boy, he would have heard the noise that marked the return of the scientist, or felt the cold gaze watching the little scene that was being played before him.

"I'm your da-"

Vincent opened his mouth to speak, to finally utter the words he had been dying to say to the little boy since he had first seen him, but it wasn't meant to be; he spoke too late. Hojo stepped forward into the lab, and swiftly cut in. "He is a demon, Sephiroth. Step away. You will be punished for being in here."

Just as soon as it had begun, it ended. The childlike joy on Sephiroth's face melted away, replaced with the dull, pained mask that was usually present. "Yes, sir," Sephiroth said softly, obeying Hojo because he had no other choice.

As the little boy left the room, and Hojo narrowed in on Vincent's cage, the man shrank back into his corner. "Let him go free, Hojo. I will do anything for him…" Vincent found himself whispering, a new desperation in his voice.

"No. You are to stay away from my son." There was a sneer, and the key to the heavy padlock holding Vincent's cage closed came swinging out of Hojo's labcoat pocket, held by strong nimble hands.

"He is my son…" Vincent insisted, his voice still strong despite the panic bubbling up inside of him. "Mine and Lucrecia's!"

As the lock clicked, the door swung open, and Vincent's own humiliating, burning punishment began, he discovered that the meeting with his little boy, his own son, the joy of his pathetic existence, had taught him how to cry again.

The burning tears fell, gliding down his cheeks and leaving wet trails that would soon fade away, and sooner be forgotten; yet, they had shone brightly, if only for a few moments.


End file.
